


Not a Promise

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days (2016) [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on Song Lyrics, Christmas Presents, Derek Hale Has Issues, Established Relationship, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: Promises can be broken.  Stiles' love for Derek cannot.That's a fact.But maybe Derek needs to hear it anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spikeluv84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikeluv84/gifts).



> Thirty thankful days, day 11: Gift for spikeluv84.
> 
> \--
> 
> Per request, based on Justin Timberlake's [Not a Bad Thing](https://spikeluv84.tumblr.com/post/145994161075/this-plot-bunny-is-eating-my-brain-can-someone).

Stiles stared at the email in horror. He went to shut the lid of Derek's laptop, then froze, fingers hovering in mid-air. Because he wasn't supposed to see this, and he _knew_ it… hell, he hadn't _wanted_ to see it, he'd just been bored and looking for something to watch on Netflix and _goddammit_ Derek had no fucking television and…

 

And none of that mattered. Because Stiles was a moron. A moron who'd stupidly clicked on the email popup notification unthinkingly because it was what he _did_ , okay? He clicked on his own email popups and he'd been in that weird zone, watching Supernatural while spread out on Derek's couch and when the popup had, well, popped up, he'd clicked it.

 

And now he couldn't unsee what he'd seen. 

 

It was everything. Every goddamn thing he'd ever asked for, ever vaguely mumbled about being 'cool' or awesome or whatever. It was an Amazon wishlist he'd never even thought to put together because it literally contained every damn thing he could ever want -- and about ten extra things he didn't even know he _did_ want but which were fucking perfect. 

 

There was even a weeping angel tree ornament, for fuck's sake.

 

The total cost was more than his dad made in three months. Hell, maybe even longer than that. It made a sick feeling swoop through Stiles and that was what moved him to close the laptop and shove it off him and onto the coffee table so he could sit up properly and drop his head into his hands so he could _breathe_ for a minute.

 

It was as he was trying to gather himself together that the door to the apartment opened -- Derek's shitty apartment that Stiles was planning to ask him to move out of when his lease was up in January, or so he'd _thought_ before Derek went and spent over ten grand on him and… Yeah, there was the panic attack he'd been trying to stave off.

 

"Stiles?"

 

Stiles just shook his head, too focused on controlling his breathing to answer Derek. When jeans-clad thighs -- perfect, thick thighs that Stiles loved to get pinned between -- moved into his line of vision, Stiles closed his eyes too, because he just couldn't deal with this right now.

 

And then he opened his eyes again because… fuck that. Seriously, fuck every bit of that. This was _Derek_ , and Stiles already knew, deep down in his soul, that he was going to move heaven and earth and hell itself, if it came to that, to get the privilege of dealing with anything and everything that came with Derek. Including his many and various fears.

 

"Stiles?" Derek's voice was soft, a little shaky on the edges as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the coffee table, absently pushing the computer out of the way as he did so.

 

Stiles reached forward, curling his fingers around the top of Derek's knees just to ground himself in the feel of something _real_ beneath his hands. Because that panic attack wasn't exactly pushing itself down. "Hey," he said back, his voice all kinds of croaky and broken. His fingers flexed against Derek's lower thighs, his eyes dropping to Derek's chest as he sought some way to start this conversation.

 

The truth? Yeah. Yeah, the truth would have to do.

 

"I have a confession to make," Stiles started, then whined a little when he saw the skin near the corners of Derek's eyes flinch before Derek's expression closed down completely. "No, no," he rushed to say, leaning forward to place his face in Derek's neck and _breathe_ him in. "Not like that, okay? Never like that. But I sort of accidentally saw something that I wasn't supposed to see."

 

Derek's hands came up to cup his face and then his hold tightened and pushed until Stiles was sitting upright again, blinking into Derek's questioning face. "What? What caused… this?"

 

"I saw your email. It was… it was an email notification that your packages have all shipped, and I forgot I was on your laptop and not mine and I looked at it and--"

 

"Oh." Derek's hands fell away and he ducked his head, his cheeks going pink. Giving a little huff of a laugh, he shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. "Uh. Surprise? Merry Christmas, I guess."

 

"No." At the fierce tone in Stiles' voice, Derek's head popped up, confusion once again creasing his brow. "No, Derek, no." Lifting his hands from Derek's knees, Stiles echoed Derek's earlier movement when he pressed his shaking palms to Derek's cheeks. "You… oh my god, man, it's too much. You know that right? This is coming from the guy who once tried to buy Lydia a flat screen television for her birthday, so you have to listen to me when I tell you that it's..." Stiles shook his head, helpless in the face of _everything._

 

"You don't… want it?"

 

Stiles gaped at him, choking on air as he tried to find a way to explain what was going through his mind. "Do you know why I bought that television for Lydia? And the ten other gifts I bought her that year? Because I was young and stupid and thought if I just spent enough money on her that she'd fall in love with me. But Derek… you can't buy love. You can't--"

 

"I'm _sorry_." 

 

It came out in a rush, panicked, like Derek thought Stiles was going to get up and walk out right that second and Stiles… broke. He just broke right in half, because he never, ever wanted Derek to worry for a _second_ that he'd lose another person in his life. 

 

Fumbling his way off the sofa, Stiles climbed right into Derek's lap and kissed the apology right off his lips. When Derek stopped feeling like a piece of -- very nicely shaped -- porcelain under his hands, Stiles pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, hoping with one small, forgotten corner of his mind that the table would continue to hold their combined weight.

 

"You know what I want for Christmas?" Stiles whispered, like he was sharing a secret. 

 

Derek looked down, trying to avoid his gaze, but Stiles just ducked his head and contorted himself into a silly position to keep hold of it. Finally, Derek shrugged, a tiny flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. "What?"

 

"I want to see you tomorrow. And then the day after that. And I'll take all your Sundays, too, if it's not too much to ask."

 

Derek's smile settled in, turned into something real as it crept into his eyes, lighting them up. "Dork."

 

"If you really want to make me, like, the happiest? You'll consider adding all the other days to your Sundays. Because I want all your nights, but I really, _really_ want all of your mornings too. I want to wake up next to you _every day_ , I want you to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes. That would thrill me right to my toes, okay?"

 

Hands spasming where they were holding onto Stiles, Derek swallowed roughly, his eyes drifting down to stare at Stiles' neck. At where the pulse, Stiles was sure, was beating steady and true. 

 

"You… that. That sounds an awful lot like a proposal." Derek lifted his gaze again, and it looked a lot more broken than it had earlier. Like he was waiting for Stiles to deny it.

 

"God, of course it is. Derek, fuck, I was waiting, okay? Waiting until I thought you wouldn't freak out and panic and _run_ because I absolutely cannot handle it when you're gone. I go to pieces, you know. And I know you don't have a great track record with people making you promises, so I'm not promising. I'm fucking _telling you_. I'm telling you that I'm all in, every second of every day for the rest of my life is devoted to you and your happiness."

 

"Stiles, that's… I'm--" 

 

"Worth it." The words were a whisper because there was far too much emotion clogging Stiles' throat for him to say them with any kind of strength. "You're so fucking worth it, Derek Hale. And I'm going to tell you that, every day, for the rest of your life until you _believe it_. My love is free, and I can't--" Stiles pressed his mouth to Derek's again, _needing_ to kiss him, to share this swelling _thing_ that felt trapped inside him. 

 

Derek stood up, then quickly bent over, bearing them both into the couch as they continued to press open-mouthed kisses to each other's lips, the touches soft and filled with everything that had been said and everything that still needed to be. Things like…

 

"I love you."

 

"Tell me again," Derek gasped, his eyes a little wet, lashes damp.

 

"I love you." Stiles' voice was finally free to be as powerful as he needed it to be, and it shook with the strength of his conviction. "I love you now, and I'll love you tomorrow and every day after that."

 

"Not a promise?"

 

Stiles shook his head urgently. "Not a promise. Promises can be broken."

 

The hope, the _joy_ in Derek's expression shattered Stiles, but it also put the pieces back together again. He was slotted together, _re_ made for the express purpose of loving the beautiful, fragile man in his arms. And that wasn't a bad thing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> They keep the weeping angel tree ornament because... *reasons*.


End file.
